Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

I began reading John Irving with "Widow for a Year," then "New Hampshire Hotel" and "Cider House Rules," all of which I enjoyed very much. When I came to "Owen Meany" I could hardly believe it of the same author. True, Irving's distinct sense of humor and craft can still be seen in the eccentric characters who are believeable, touching, and typical of him, including the narrator's grandmother, cousins, and especially his mother Tabitha. But the two main characters, narrator Johnny and his best friend Owen, are a total failure. Johnny is bland and vague, who seems to exist only to witness and record Owen's life story, and to deliver lengthy, monotonous, and rambling diatribe against the Reagan administration. While I do largely agree with his view on this matter, it simply DOES NOT MAKE a good novel. Removing the pages and pages of righteous political grievances may or may not make this a better novel, but it would definitely make it a less tiresome read. Owen, while a curious and intriguing character at first, does not develop at all. If anything, the character becomes increasing flat and thin as he grows up until he is only a voice, a mission--of course you could argue that's exactly what Irving intends for him to embody, but it's done so awkwardly that it simply kills the character--and an annoying voice at that. THE CAPITAL LETTERS USED THROUGHOUT THE BOOK TO REPRESENT HIS UNUSUAL AND UNEARTHLY VOICE begins to get on one's nerves and make one wants to skip whole paragraphs of his oh-so-wise-and-divine speech. Owen's lifelong conviction and obsession--that he's bound to die on a specific date in a meaningful way--finally happens toward the very end, which, while astonishing and moving, should have happened some 200 pages earlier. Because this book just drags on and on, by the time you get to about 2/3 of it you simply want him to get it over with for goodness' sake... This reviewer is 30 and has been an avid reader since about 5 or 6. So far there have been very few books that I found so badly written that I didn't even want to finish them. This was almost one of them. But somehow I felt Irving didn't deserve such an "ultimate insult" and decided to struggle and finish it, with the dim hope that it would eventually justify itself. No such luck. And it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so to speak, which lingered and disgusted for days after I put the book down. Contrary to a previous reviewer who regards this the best book he's ever read, I'm sure it's among the worst books I have ever read (and will ever read). Judging by the rave reviews the book gets here, I guess mine will probably get a lot of "not helpful" vote. But I'd still like to provide a different opinion--had I read something like this before buying "Owen Meany," I'd have spent the money on something more worthwhile.